


Hot Chocolate

by httpcrytid



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M, and i was sick today so this is my medicine, and i’m soft, it’s a coffee shop au because they’re soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 11:51:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18010418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/httpcrytid/pseuds/httpcrytid
Summary: Of all of the places for Klaus to stumble into at 6am, a little family owned coffee shop on the outskirts of town was not within his top 10. But perhaps it would be now...





	Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to @klausghost on twitter for proposing the idea of a coffee shop AU for these boys.

Six am. Is that late at night or early in the morning if you haven’t caught a wink of sleep? Really, Klaus would love to know the answer. 

Maybe a night of partying and bar hopping just a week after his dear dead dad’s funeral wasn’t his greatest idea, but it was definitely an enjoyable one. The outfit he had left the house in was not the one he was returning in, his hair was coated in a thick layer of glitter and he looked, admittedly, like a mess.

Alcohol however had cut off around three am, and now he had a nasty little hangover setting in, and with it a craving for something warm and sweet.

That is how he found himself shoving at the door to Thompson’s Café, a cute little place about a block away from the academy. It had one of those bells that rang as you opened the door, and a ton of mismatched tables clad in colourful cloths and topped with candles. Best of all, it was warm- and the view Klaus currently had was sickly sweet.

A man a little taller than himself stood behind the pale blue counter, with curly light brown hair and an apron tied around his waist in a neat bow. He was washing glasses, his back to Klaus as he called over a greeting.

“Good morning! What can I get you?”

His voice. It was like honey had met silk and given birth to the most wonderful sound to ever grace Klaus’ ears. 

Gay panic setting in, Klaus shook out as much of glitter from his curls as he could, and straightened out the black jacket he’d gained over the course of the night. Before coughing into the back of his hand and speaking himself.

“Just a hot chocolate please, extra cream?”

His voice broke at the ‘cream’, and he could hear Ben snicker from somewhere behind him. Throwing back a glare, his brother raised his hands in surrender (but maintained his amused smirk).

“Coming right up!” Klaus watched the man at the counter grab a mug, flipping it to face upwards effortlessly in his hand and placing it under a machine he seemed to already have prepared, “Anything....”

The taller of the pair had turned now, catching sight of Klaus and seemingly going through the seven stages of ‘who on earth is this’ right before his eyes. He looked shocked, then intrigued, then his expression softened to a smile— and Klaus couldn’t tell what kind of smile it was. 

“....else?” He finished finally, and Klaus at last managed to get his feet to move in order to sit at the counter.

“Just your name if that’s alright.” He blurted that just a little too fast to make it sound casual, and immediately felt his cheeks redden.

“Oh! David, most people call me Dave,” Dave, as Klaus now knew him to be, spoke kindly, continuing his work as he did, “And you are?”

“Number Four, technically,” He huffed a laugh, often wondering if that’s what it actually said on his birth certificate, “But Klaus for anybody besides my strange family.” 

If the boy sat at the counter hadn’t already caught Dave’s attention, he definitely had now.

“Number Four? If you don’t mind me asking what kind of parent gives their kid a number?”

“That would be my dad, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, he was a bold and brilliantly bad at being anything but.... well himself.” 

Dave raised a brow listening to Klaus, and handed over his hot chocolate, complete with a small bowl of cream to add at his own leisure. Warming his hands on the mug, Klaus continued his usual life story, rolling his eyes at his dad’s memory.

“I was one of seven,” He watched Dave for signs of judgement the whole time he was talking, surprisingly finding none, “If you could believe, we didn’t actually get our names until we were ten.”

“Well, Klaus, I think that’s a lot more interesting of a way to gain a name than most.” Dave laughed, leaning against the counter to talk to his customer. It was at that point that Klaus noticed they were the only two in there, (bar Ben, whom had both lost interest five minutes ago, and whom couldn’t be seen by Dave anyway). 

“What about you, Mr Thompson I presume?” He sipped his drink, refraining from burning his tongue and looking even more badly put together than he already did.

“Oh jeez, Thompson yes, but the only ‘Mr’ is my Grandfather,” The barista smiled, shaking his head, “Just plain old Dave for me, Mr makes me feel too old.”

With that, the two shared a look and Klaus’ smile became a grin. They continued talking for long enough for his drink to turn cold, and by that time, Klaus was in deep enough to drink it anyway. 

By the time the clock had almost struck seven-thirty am, customers had begun filing in, and their conversation became smiles and glances down the counter, until it was about time for Klaus to head home. 

He stood from the bar, taking one last moment to watch Dave, before slipping a small note under his empty mug and making his way out onto the street again.

—

_Thanks for the coco, same time tomorrow?_

_Klaus x_

—

The note, over the next couple of days, became less of a question and more of a promise. Without fail Klaus would arrive at the café for six am, every day dressed up a little more than the last, every day becoming more well groomed. 

Diego was the first to question him, where he was going dressed so well, but Klaus left him in the dark. At least at first, at least until the days arrived that Klaus was meeting Dave before his shift had even started. After his shift had ended. The days when Klaus began greeting Dave with a kiss on the cheek, and the weeks over which Klaus hadn’t even thought to touch a drug, or drink anything other than the hot chocolates Dave made him each morning.

Then Diego was bound to find out, because Klaus decided to bring Dave to the house. An honour he had never given another person before in his life, and so something to be nervous about. 

Finishing up their (oh, let’s mention Klaus’ new job) shift for the night, the two men cleaned up the café and Dave intertwined his fingers with his partner’s, using his spare hand to lock up behind them. 

“So, your family?” 

“All seven of them, plus Mom of course.”

“Ah, so no pressure.”

“They’ll love you. I already do.”


End file.
